Snippet #2669799

When The Dusty Traveler ran out of Orchard Mushrooms, it was always Elle that they sent out to find more. She was a deft climber, and was happy to take on the task. So, as she crossed into the orchard, eyes lifting to watch for the telltale yellow ruffled white caps against the dark barks of the apple trees, she wore a smile on her rosebud lips, and her sky blue eyes held a cheerful twinkle. Oh, there. Hefting the basket further up her arm and hooking it over her shoulder, she gathered her skirt and tucked the hems into the belt around her hips, freeing her legs for a climb.

It was as simple as jumping straight up, catching onto the lowest branches, and swinging her body until she had enough momentum to twist her body around to perch on the branch. Balancing was the fun part, though she’d always enjoyed the swooping sensations in her belly during the swinging. Balancing as she picked the mushrooms, and humming a ditty, she progressed slowly through the orchard, hopping down after each tree was harvested of the fungi that would be going first into the stew that was to be served tonight, and the remainder to be dried for storage.

She was nearing the training field, her basket half way full of the fungi when she heard the training of men, arrows whistling, calls of… was that the Captain? Yes, it was. And.. Oh no. Not Titan. The tall Aedillonian was the Queen’s guard, and apparently, the Queen vexed him often. And where did he come when vexed? To The Dusty Traveler. And somehow, she always ended up being the one to listen to his drunken stupors. You’d think a man his age wouldn’t get drunk so easily. Of course, she wasn’t one to talk; she could get drunk off a sip of ale, and that sip never stayed in her body for long.

She forced herself to ignore the ensuing spar in order to scale the apple tree to her right. The branches were thick with the fungi, here. It wasn’t the kind of fungus that harmed trees. They merely grew on them like a moss. They had a wonderful flavor, savory and earthy, with a hint of the flavor of the fruit trees they grew on. She’d just levered off the last one, topping off her now heaping basket, when her weight shifted a bit too much to the right, and then she was airborne. She threw out her arm, just enough thought going through her head to vanish the basket to save the mushrooms, and felt the bark of the tree scrape her forearm. And the ground was rushing up to greet her. This is going to hurt…